Of Vervain and Blood
by Daisywcck
Summary: Vampires derive all of their pleasure from taking the life force of a human being. Why is it, then, that Damon is drawn to Bonnie for reasons other than drinking her blood? Giving her vervain was just to ensure nothing bad would happen. Wasn't it?


Damon could not let her continue.

Although her ministrations were gathering positive responses from him, to continue letting Bonnie trace her small hands along his bare chest and the waistband of his black trousers could be dangerous. Damon had all but given up sexual stimulation. The physical act itself was merely a tease, as the human, vulnerable with nudity, blood racing, and heart pounding, was too tempting for a vampire to resist. And if a vampire could resist such temptations, he would never be satisfied with the physical connection meant for mortal man and woman. The melding of flesh, he remembered from his earliest days as a vampire, and the hunger it inspired, was never quenched, but unfortunately left his human counterparts ripped apart and his body, although saturated with blood, still trembling with a fierce need incomparable to anything else, even starvation. Even vampire did not bond with vampire over flesh, but over the tasting of each others' blood. The undead found ecstasy in the _taking_ of the life-force of another being. Especially pleasurable was the drinking of blood if the human were to give it willingly. Such pleasure shared between both human and vampire outweighed any vampire's human-like desire for sex. This seemed somehow different from those previous experiences, or else it had been too long to remember.

He caught her hand, halting its progress. With one hand and an ease impossible for anyone without super-human strength, pulled her up, her face even-keel with his own, and her lips inches from his. "You do not want to be doing that." His words, although a warning, still maintained the lovely tinkling sound of his gentle Italian accent, making the effect of them even more gentle than intended.

Bonnie's voice was such a contradiction to his. Her voice was sweet, and yes, it was gentle, but it lacked the sing-song cadences that were characteristically vampire. Still, when she spoke, Damon stilled all other thoughts in his mind and listened to all the layers of innocence, curiosity, wanting, and hurt that laced her whispered question.

"Should I drink some vervain?" 

_Darling little flower, you do not understand what fire with which you are playing._

Damon wanted to nod, to tell her that yes, she should drink some liquid squeezed from the plant. He wanted her to believe that she still needed to drink her weight in protection, that she needed protection from him, that he was strong, and could crush her, but his lips could not form the words to say any of these things. He had given her vervain, daily, crushed in almost everything she consumed. Only she had not known this. Damon had needed to be sure, to know, to be certain, that his control over her was not due to any power, or trick of the mind for which she was unwilling. Initially, he needed to feel the certainty that her appreciation of his company was not feigned because of some ploy Elena or Stefan had proposed she play. Though when that was verified, he kept providing Bonnie, unaware, with the protection of the plant's properties without reason while he spent unnecessary time with his little bird. Finally, he realized, that if she were to be without the protection of the vervain, and he lost control of his violent desires for her, and she be dead and gone, that the mundane feelings of old and boredom might return, that he would be _understimulated_. The vervain was no longer her protection. It was protecting _him_.

Bonnie took his silence as a yes, and she shifted away from him. Damon was not sure if she was moving to get away from him for fear, or if she was simply going to lean off of the bed to dig about her jeans for some spare leaves to ingest. He did not let her move far, though, because a moment later he was pulling her back to his body, letting her press against him again. He took the time to tangle two fingers through a piece of curly hair, relishing in the way even her curls responded to his touch. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyelashes. When his finger and thumb dropped the strand, and sought to caress her cheek, she closed her eyes. Damon, mildly distracted by the pink hues of her fair skinned eyelids, revealed when her eyes fluttered shut, was searching for just the right pattern of words to address the question of vervain, felt completely paralyzed when Bonnie whispered his name.

"Damon..."

His mind, exhausted from weaving a web of complicated solutions to the many intricacies of his current situation, from fending of the curious remarks and searching stares from the unknowing Stefan and Elena, and from forming all sorts of strategies to steer his little bird in the directions in desired, could not take any more. Something overflowed within him, and all he knew was that Bonnie, this fragile, nearly naked being on top of him, had to be his.

The tiny part of him that had not yet succumbed to the overbearing weight of it all, murmured, "she is yours...she is yours..." No, he had yet to sway her mind with his mental power, or taste her blood. He felt a surge of need in a deep place within himself, beneath the stone and darkness, because he had not yet physically _had_ her yet.

In the split-second that encased all of these rebounding thoughts, he realized that his need to drink her was uncontrollably and overwhelmingly outweighed by his need to _have_ her.

_Odd._

He pulled her closer to him, letting her feel the effect his name on her lips had on his physical form. And he was kissing her, not persuasively, but invitingly, as if to welcome her to his lair. The little bird had torn some fixture of composure loose from his being, and he was going to repay her in kind.

Bonnie's hands were eagerly pursuing him again, caressing every inch of his torso as if she were searching for something on his skin. His eyes closed as her hands trailed lower, lower. She snaked her dainty, and surprisingly strong hand underneath his clothes and gripped him for the first time. He let himself sigh a sigh too soft for human ears. This whole process was unnecessary for him, as he was already prepared to claim her completely for his own.

_I forget, my darling, that this experience is new to you. And what kind of gentleman would I be if he robbed you of the complete--_

The edges of the room began to feel acutely fuzzy. Her hands on him were surprisingly intoxicating. Decades since his last. Centuries, even. He forced himself to focus on her face. When he did, his hunger heightened. She was staring at him in both wonder and excitement, eyes shining with a brightness and innocence he both wanted to capture and protect at the same time. Damon moved to climb on top of her delicate form, perching himself on her and the bed in a way so that he could survey her body from curly fiery hair to dainty little toes. Her small, perky breasts seemed to beg him to devour them with both fang and tongue. Her stomach muscles jumped ever so lightly at his touch as he traced fingertips from beneath her breasts to the curve of her hips. He gently removed her pale pink underthings, surprising himself at how devilishly slow he slid them down her legs. And sweet, little Bonnie had done away with nearly all of her womanly hair.

_That I did not expect from such a angelic little thing._

He grinned as he ran his finger along a thin strip of short, curly, red hair there. She arched her hips against his hand a little, encouraging him. Her gentle, confident movements contradicted the eager, rapid heart that he heard beating in her chest. His gaze returned to her blushing face, and his gleaming, if not twinkling, eyes met her tendril-shaded brown ones.

_Young maidens are almost overeager once you unleash their passions. _

His memories of the overzealous virgins, although distant and long ago, included clumsy girls with childlike beauty that often seemed desperate for emotional fulfillment, that were quick to disrobe for his charms, confusing their emotional needs for physical ones. Their inexperience and his dominance over them used to feed his need for power, even before he became a vampire. Charming lovely ladies out of their petticoats had been a hobby he dabbled in during his mortal college days. Once vampire, his mental power over them persuaded them to remove their dresses if he wished to see their skin, but never undressed them to consummate a physical bond of the flesh, for there was little point. But he found that currently, feeling this fragile creature beneath him, now embracing him and pulling him closer to her heaving breast, the point was clear. He would give her what he remembered in his mortal days, centuries ago, the definition of pleasure. The art of seduction amongst mortals only varied slightly than his art of drawing vampire prey close to his teeth. Had she not been immune to his mental probing because of the vervain, he would have searched her mind for fantasy, and he would have convinced her she was living said dream, all the while drinking his fill of her blood. He did not have the ability to search her thoughts, thanks to the vervain, and Damon preferred that way, as unusual as the circumstances were. He was forced to threaten her with what he supposed she wanted.

His smug voice had a lighter tint to it than usual. "I shall make you writhe underneath me, little one." Damon's hand brushed Bonnie's tangled, strawberry curls from her flushed face. Ever so gently, he pressed his lips to hers. He knew, of course, that she maintained a furious desire for him, for his flesh, evident by her pleasurable shudder at his threat and was not surprised when her tongue sought his fervently, and her eager hands found their way into his thick, dark hair, pulling it at the nape of his neck, deepening their kiss.

If Bonnie was awkward with inexperience, Damon did not mind. He was too caught up in his own desire to consume her fully with the weight of all his being, and the genuine pleasure he felt kissing her to concern himself with her skill set. A tiny part of him grinned inside as he astonished that he would been the one to deflower his little flower. He released his kiss, letting her catch her breath. He pressed his nose to her neck, inhaling the sweet smell of the combination of her musky pheromones, apricot-scented hair, and a light hint of vervain floating through her veins. He licked the bright blue vein pulsing along her neck, ignoring the dull ache that throbbed somewhere behind his teeth.

Instead he focused on kissing her passionately- _was this passion_- he'd forgotten a century ago, and on quelling the other ache, the one rapidly spreading inside of him. He felt a furious something inside of him breaking and building, smoothing out and crumpling up, all in rhythm with his tongue and lips fighting with hers. The gentle, but pleading cry escaped her mouth and tumbled down his throat and into his chest was enough to reassure him that this little virgin bird was challenging the proud, clever crow. He would show her his power now. He would not drain her life-force or use mental tricks to overtake her. He would beat her on _her_ terms. He would overwhelm her with pleasure only he could give, beating her at her own game.

Bonnie let out another pleading cry, this one louder still. It encompassed all her need, her desire that Damon had instilled within her. While her cry translated as needing, her eyes were demanding.

_No turning back after this, little one._

He descended on her at once, kissing her mouth, then her tantalizing and tempting neck. He let his mouth caress the skin around her breasts and his hands followed, attempting to memorize every inch of her skin. He traced the small curve of her hip with his hand and then- _oh_- he grabbed her hip tightly as her hand had found the part of him that throbbed more than his teeth. She had made her way back into his trousers now. Bonnie was stroking his hardness and she was clumsy and he did not care. Like a juvenile, he found he was pawing at her body now just as eagerly as the virgins of the past used to paw at him, like she was pawing at him. And he was kissing her again, and this time his hands found their way between her legs and found the velvety wetness there. He heard a small moan, and was surprised to know that it had come from _him. _He trailed kisses across her neck, down her breasts, and heard her whimper in protest as he was no longer within her hand's reach.

And then his head was nestled in between her legs and his mouth was on her thigh, sucking the skin there. Surely the marks he was imprinting on her with his mouth would remain there for a few days. He ignored the stinging feeling in his teeth as his mouth trailed over her femoral artery, and he made his way to his target. His fingers delicately opened her so that he could run his tongue slowly up and down and across that sensitive skin. Damon, relished in the quiet mewling sounds escaping Bonnie's lips. He continued to taste her, hands gently holding her thighs, dragging his tongue at the tantalizing pace that was making Bonnie squirm. He felt the muscles in her legs tremble, and he paused.

A smug smile fell upon his lips as he looked up at her, and when he did, he was paralyzed again. Bonnie was looking down at him with a stare that was pure wanton. Her strawberry hair splayed out in all directions on his pillow, her cheeks were tinged with light and dark pinks, and her perky, inviting breasts were heaving with each breath.

Damon's insides crumpled again, and he forgot about any consequences.

With a strength within him that was gradually growing and feeding off her need for him, he divested himself of his trousers. Damon suppressed a growl as he climbed up her body with a catlike grace and shifted his now naked body on hers, allowing her to completely feel her effect on him. The choice was hers. She could press back against his body, or flee from the dangers that lay ahead.

_Her rules, after all. No sense ignoring them now after I've ensured she's been a willing participant._

The carnal urge to slam into her and toss her around for his pleasure was miraculously fought off by this new-found strength she was somehow feeding him through each wanting gaze and sound of hers. He knew, that all of this effort would be for naught if he did not protect his little bird, even from himself, so he stilled himself and looked into her eyes, which were fluttering open once his movements stopped. Not only did she not appear at all frightened, but her eyes betrayed her need for him. She _was_ willing. Bonnie began to make a sound of frustration, but Damon caught it in his mouth, before it left her lips. And he was kissing her again, inviting her further and deeper into his lair. Then he let out a gentle whisper, his mouth against hers.

"Little flower, I am going to ravage you."

All at once, Bonnie's breath hitched in her throat in anticipation, Damon shifted himself at her entrance so he could carry out his threat, and someone threw open the bedroom door, hurling it from the frame so forcefully that it fell off the hinges and dropped to the hardwood floor with a startling crash. Bonnie shrieked. Damon frowned.

"Perfect timing as usual, little brother."

With a single sweep of his arm against the side of the bed and a split-second of movement that Bonnie just barely registered, Damon had carefully moved off of her, picked his pants up off the floor, and donned them in a fluid motion without much notice from Stefan, who was moving towards Bonnie with a horrified look on his face.

Damon faced his brother squarely, blocking Stefan's access to the bed, and more importantly, Stefan's ability to remove the humiliated, blanket-clutching Bonnie from his room.

"Damon... step away from her. Are you alright, Bonnie?" A surprised, and blinking Bonnie stammered.

"..." She chanced a glance at Damon, then tightened her grip on the blanket covering her nude form.

Stefan's face contorted with anger as he looked over Bonnie's small and trembling form, holding onto Damon's bedding, and the words burst out of him, as if ripped from his mouth. His voice sounded tortured.

"You feed her mind lies, Damon! Since when have you begun feeding on our friends?"

With an exasperated tone and flourish of his arms in frustration, Damon muttered, "The only thing I have been feeding her, little brother, is vervain."

The silence swallowed the room. It wasn't until moments later than Stefan, eyes narrowing in disbelief, shifted and made a sound to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, Damon saw Bonnie's eye's widen, and her lips, cherry red to match her flushing cheeks, part in surprise. Damon would not tolerate any further interruptions, not after he had been so unceremoniously halted from this curious and pleasurable experience. Damon's voice was clipped, but still maintained the sing-song quality that accompanied his Italian accent.

"Go ahead and smell her, if you must, brother."

Stefan grimaced. He was not sure why Damon would lie, especially when he had been caught in the act of draining her. _Could Damon not think of anything else to say?_ The idea of Damon feeding a victim vervain was simply ridiculous. Although, besides the smell of Bonnie's sweet blood, he did smell a hint of vervain either in the air or from within her. _Perhaps he had wanted to level the playing field and equal his prey's fighting chances. Could he be trying to establish an immunity to the plant?_ Whether he meant to end Bonnie's life, or simply convince her to let Damon feed on her, Stefan was not sure, but he would, by force if necessary, find out. Stefan could not help but pause and survey the room. The otherwise tidy room was disturbed by a pile of clothing in the middle of the hardwood floor: Damon's dark sweater, jeans, and a piece of some flowery fabric he assumed was Bonnie's shirt. Delicate pieces of lacy fabric Stefan figured were Bonnie's underwear were scattered beside the bed. Bonnie, hair rumpled and cheeks flush, was clutching the dark blue comforter on Damon's bed, holding it up to her neck. Her face had the marks of humiliation, or was it fear? Stefan's searching glances faded to an accusatory stare at Damon. _Had he divested her of clothing to feed?_ He had rather thought that Damon was beyond such disgusting behavior, but then, Damon found nothing to be sacred since Stefan could remember.

"Bonnie, get dressed. Damon and I will wait in the living room until you finish. Matt is in my car outside and he ensure you get home safely." She could tell by Stefan's tone that it was not up for discussion.

Stefan heard his own voice, taught with tension. He spoke rapidly, hurling his words at his brother, although he already knew the response he would receive. "You have cast a shadow over Bonnie's mind. Have you tasted her?"

Stefan thought Damon would grant him some usual explanation, taking no responsibility for the destruction of human life, but Damon only pursed his lips, maintaining a pondering, yet innocent expression.

Finally, after several moments, Damon responded with a bland and disinterested, "No."

And although Stefan did not believe it, in the context which he was asking, it was the truth. Damon had tasted the intoxicating mouth that kept his lips pressed to hers for much longer than he would ever tolerate in the past. He had tasted the nerve endings beneath her skirt that made her coo with joy. Yes, he had tasted the young woman, but not her blood.

_Not yet_. _That experience is for later. _

A smug grin grew on Damon's mouth at these thoughts, causing Stefan to bristle with anger. Damon, distracted by these thoughts, did not immediately see Stefan, springing upon him like an provoked cat attacking a fidgeting mouse. Unable to move away from Stefan's pounce, Damon threw his hand up to his own throat, but felt Stefan's hands instead of his skin. All in a moment, the snarling Stefan wrapped his hand around Damon's pale-skinned neck, lifted him up into the air, pinning him against the door frame, holding Damon's face a few inches above his own. Damon, legs dangling in the few inches air beneath him, grunted at the choke hold.

"Your vanity has made you weaker, Damon." Stefan noted flatly, keeping his eyes locked on Damon's. Damon made another grunting noise, more of discomfort than of pain. Raising his eyebrows, Stefan forced himself to reply to the grunts in a casual-calm. "Oh, you wish to explain yourself now?" He then maintained a tone of the professor-lecturing-student variety, as if Stefan were revealing the moral of a fable. "Better to speak truthfully, then. You would not want to waste your breath."

Stefan tightened his grip on Damon's throat, as if to restrict his breathing, before releasing his hold on him completely, and watching Damon crumple to the floor. Stefan rolled his eyes at Damon and his intolerable annoyance. "Stop being dramatic. You and I both know that I did not hurt you."

Damon glared up at Stefan through briefly narrowed eyes. Then, with a piteous look on his face, and with one hand gently massaging his neck, Damon balled his other hand up in a fist and gave Stefan a single, pointed, fake cough, as if to whine, "Well you _might_ have."

Stefan's fist connected with the wall beside Damon's head. Damon was startled at Stefan's excessive displays of dominance more so than any choking hold or destruction of his personal property. Damon watched the pieces of the wall sticking to to Stefan's balled-up hand float to the hardwood floor. "Damn it, Damon. Why must you lie to me, always? Why must you _always_ have what you want, no matter what the cost? Not a mark on her neck, or a cut, yet her blood is all over your mouth! Did you think if you drank from her thigh, we would not see?"

Stefan was ranting now, pacing. Damon tuned him out, now beginning to play with the tiny pieces of beige sheet rock on the floor, arranging them and rearranging them between his fingers. "And, " Stefan paused, because something else had peaked his curiosity, and he stepped towards the doorway. He folded his arms across his chest and peered down at Damon who was dancing his fingers along the floor looking bored. Stefan furrowed his brow and asked the question, sounding genuinely surprised. "And why are you so weak?"

Damon stood up gracefully in the door frame and instead of facing Stefan to respond, he strode out of the bedroom and walked purposefully to his living room table, lazily flicking the tiny scraps of wall off his fingers along the way. He grabbed an empty bottle, glass stained crimson, from the table's surface and escorted it into his kitchen where it found the bottom of the trash can with a _clink_.

"I repeat," Stefan insisted, "why are you so weak?"

Damon was not too found of this line of questioning. Feigning boredom had only taken him so far, and Stefan had become not only a disturbance to what had begun as a lovely and also curious evening with his little bird, but now was encroaching on a severe annoyance. Of course he was feeling fatigue. The physical exertion he'd exuded over the past few hours, along with the pool of confusing emotions stumbling around within him would be enough to tire any vampire, especially one fasting from all human blood while exposing himself to a human dosed with vervain. He should write down the many intricacies of his current state, so as no...mistakes should happen. He would not be tasting her blood any time in the near future. The thought of the taste of his little bird's warm blood only frustrated him further.

"Well, you _did_ take away my dinner." The look of pain on Stefan's face was too irritating for Damon to tolerate.

"As it seems now, I must go out to dine tonight. I assume," Damon let out a sigh, "that you will not be interested in attending my little excursion out." Stefan clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Pity. You look a bit...weak... yourself."

Damon knew that the reasons for Stefan's weakness certainly were not the same as his own, otherwise Stefan would surely have recognized the mewing sounds coming from Bonnie's lips, or fully understood the reasons for Damon perfectly positioning himself on top of the redhead. In his bed.

_L'idiota, lo sciocco tonto... _


End file.
